The wood had really begun to burn her thighs. She had been sitting on the porch anxiously awaiting her package that morning. Shorts were the best option on what had become one of the hottest days of the summer that year. She could have waited inside, but the fans were too loud for her; she needed utter silence in this moment. 'Just wait inside' she thought, but her trepidation couldn't be contained indoors. Noon was slowly approaching and the heat was becoming unbearable. She couldn't remember it being this hot, at least not since that summer years ago....with him. The sun rose and set when he was around her. He seemed to make her feel warm even on the coldest days. She loved him. That summer they had spent a week together; it was a private lake they had been going to since they were kids. The heat had been so extreme that week, they had vowed to not wear any clothes the entire time. He had planned to go hiking and explore the surrounding areas with her, but instead he spent his time exploring every dip and curve of her body. She didn't mind; his touch was the epitome of what she imagined physical euphoria would feel like. His exhale was her inhale and that was they way it had always been for her. Even as a kid she had known that once she was old enough, they would exchange hearts and care for them as their own. He had called her that morning with a brief but distressing message. " I sent my heart to you. Once you receive it, I'll be gone. It should arrive by noon." She silently nodded even though she knew he could not see her through the phone. Despite the fact that she didn't agree with his decision, she had accepted what was about to take place. The sun had come to full bloom that day. As she waited for the package she licked her lips, not knowing if the bitter taste of salt had come from her tears or her sweat.
Noon.
She heard the parcel truck approach. She stood up frozen, mesmerized by each step the postman took towards her to deliver her fate. He handed her the box with a slight smile and left. She held the box unblinking, placing her right hand on top of the box and the left underneath. She swore in that moment, she could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. As she walked inside, the cool room did not offer her any relief; the box had become the coldest thing she had ever held. As she slowly opened the box, she braced herself. The importance of not damaging what was inside took precedence over the damaging of her heart. She opened the box and carefully peeled back layers of the newspapers he had used to protect his heart. She absentmindedly began to read the words printed on them in hopes of seeing some hidden message, knowing deep down there was probably none. He was never a cryptic person, he lived life in black and white. There was no in between with him. It was one of the many things she had grown to love about him. She lived life in color, without any skepticism. She felt that disparity between them had made them perfect together. She filled his voids and he filled hers. As she peeled back the last layer, she took a deep breath...it was not what she had expected. Inside the box was a sole record. Music had been another language in their relationship. There were times when his only forms of communicating with her were through music. If ever he was angry or upset, he would use a song to speak for him. She had always been the vocal one in their arguments. Most arguments would end with her storming off into her room. She would end up slamming the door behind her to drown out the silence.
As she would lay on the bed to vent out her tears and frustrations, the music would begin to play. She could hear his songs among her muffled cries. Reluctantly she would get up and open the door to let the lyrics explain what he verbally could not. Once the songs were done, she would always make her way to him. He would be sitting on the porch awaiting her, still silent but knowing everything he had wanted to say had been said through the lyrics. It had become their implicit routine. This was another reason why she loved him; their secret language through music. Picking up the record, she did a quick inspection, making sure nothing else was in the box. Clenching it against her chest, she slowly walked to her record player. She placed it down and hesitantly began to play it. As she sat down on the floor, she pulled her knees into her chest in hopes of protecting her heart somehow. The music began. Song after song she sat silently, listening, awaiting each message that was specifically for her. Every word and instrument had something to say; they spoke to her, he spoke to her. The fury of the violins left no piece of her heart unturned. Each song more melancholic than the last. She didn't want the music to end. She knew once the music ended, he would be gone. Leading up to this day he had grown distant, quiet. There was always a sad undertone to him. But in the last few months it had become deafening. His sadness had enveloped him, he was consumed by his emotions. It had invaded every part of his being, including his heart. He had told her he needed some time for himself, some space. She would not leave his side. She knew that by her being there she had been taking up the space he needed to fill the rest of his heart with sadness. It had taken her place in their relationship. He had always been her sun but in the end she could not be his. As the inescapable ending of the last song approached, she stood up and stopped the music. Her heart could not bear another good-bye. If I don't play the last song...he won't be gone, she lamented. But in her heart she knew that the music had already ended, the moment that box was delivered. She knew that at noon, her heart had already been broken.
(fiction)
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